


A time for wolves

by Queenofthebees



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Breeding, Cunnilingus, Drugged Sex, F/F, F/M, Half-Sibling Incest, Loss of Virginity, Melisandre saw that the wolves need to come back in her fires, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pure Crack, Sansa never married Ramsay, Seduction, Vaginal Fingering, Voyeurism, and makes Jonsa bang, thats it, thats the fic, well so they think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 08:47:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18049337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenofthebees/pseuds/Queenofthebees
Summary: As if her thoughts had summoned him, the door opened so fast it slammed against the wall. Sansa squeaked, a flush returning to her face and spreading down her neck and across her exposed breasts. Jon stood in the doorway, his chest heaving as though he had ran there and his eyes were fixed on Sansa’s exposed chest.“Lord Snow,” Melisandre purred, finally stepping away from Sansa and rising to her feet. “Your Lady awaits.”“What have you done?” Jon growled, although he couldn’t tear his eyes away from his sister’s breasts.“What needed to be done,” the woman replied simply, leaning past him to push the door shut. In the silence, the click was deafening.





	A time for wolves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wightjon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wightjon/gifts).



“Don’t open the door for anyone until I return,” Jon warned her as he lead her into the Lord Commander’s chambers.

Clutching her grey cloak closer to her trembling body, Sansa nodded quickly, her cheeks still stained from the tears she had shed in happiness of seeing him again and the relief of knowing she had escaped Littlefinger and his plans for her to marry Ramsay Bolton. She was safe now with Jon.

“I mean it Sansa,” he stated, his head turning as he heard movement along the corridor, a deep frown appearing between his eyes.

“Apologies,” a silky voice murmured before a woman with fire red hair stepped beside him, her gaze raking over Sansa in curiosity but the way they gleamed with interest made Sansa want to shrink back. “Your sister?”

“Aye,” Jon replied, looking back to Sansa. He held her gaze for a moment. “Stay here Sansa, I won’t be long.”

“I could get you some tea to soothe your aches,” the woman said softly, her lips curving into an inviting smile. Sansa bit her lip, the thought of tea already warming her. She glanced at Jon, ready to go with his decision. She knew better than to blindly trust someone now.

“That would be kind Melisandre,” Jon murmured slowly, nodding his thanks to the woman. “Thank you.”

With a last reminder to close and lock the door behind him, Jon disappeared down to the main hall to clear up what would happen now he was free from his vows.

Sansa unfastened her cloak slowly and hung it over Jon’s chair. Melisandre smiled kindly as she walked past her and hung the kettle up above the fire to boil.

She wandered around the room for a few moments, appreciating the silence. She didn’t want to talk about her experiences right now and with a total stranger so she distracted herself with eying up the room as the red woman retrieved the kettle from the fire. Sansa stepped up to the hearth once it was free. She could hear Melisandre tinkering in the corner with the tea but Sansa was far more occupied with the fire, spreading her hands out above the flames to try and get some heat into them.

“Were you and your brother close?” Melisandre asked suddenly, making Sansa jerk in surprise, the warmth of the fire almost making her forget for a few moments she had company.

“We didn’t talk much,” she replied honestly. “But we cared about each other. I tried not to hurt his feelings about him being…well, you know,” she trailed off with a shrug. She had never liked using the word bastard when it came to Jon for she knew the word hurt him very much.  “But mother often kept me away from him with my lessons.”

“You say you were being sold to Ramsay Bolton,” the woman continued, her eyes fixed on the cup in front of her as she stirred the tea. “Forgive me for asking but…are you a maid?”

Sansa flushed, her eyes wide as she squeaked out a response “That is not your concern!”

Melisandre looked up at her, another small smile on her lips as her eyes roamed over Sansa’s body, almost as though she could see right through her. Sansa instinctively wrapped her arms around her but she raised her chin defiantly. She had endured men salivating over her, she could do so with a woman too.

“It is and it isn’t,” Melisandre commented with a sniff, her eyes twinkling as she continued. “I have my answer from your reaction anyway.”

Sansa’s lips parted on instinct before she realised she had no answer to the comment. Instead she turned back to the fire and tried not to think of how long Jon might be, and how long she would be alone with this woman.

“Your tea is ready,” Melisandre said, rising from her chair with another cup. “I’m sure Jon will appreciate some tea as well.”

Sansa nodded slowly, watching her leave the room before making her way to the table where the steaming cup of tea sat invitingly. She released a soft, happy sigh as she cupped both hands around it, savouring the warmth traveling through her and she leaned forward to sniff the liquid curiously.

There were spices in it, she’d guess, though she wasn’t sure what they were. They smelled good though and, Melisandre had said that it would soothe her aches. So, Sansa didn’t think much of it as she raised the cup to her lips.

It was sweeter than she had expected but warming and Sansa gratefully drank it down. She was so caught up in the beverage she hadn’t realised she hadn’t locked the door again until she heard it open and Melisandre sauntered through.

Sansa placed her empty cup on the table and took a seat, eyeing the red woman as she wandered to the fire and stared intently at the flames.

“Did Jon say when he would come?”

Melisandre’s lips curled upwards though she didn’t look at Sansa at all. “Soon enough.”

Sansa turned to look at the flames too, her gaze flitting between the fire and the woman in front of it. “Is there something there?”

This time, Melisandre did look at her, the same smirk growing across her face. “I’ve seen many things in the flames. And I do what I can to make them happen.”

“Oh,” Sansa replied dumbly, licking her lips as she thought of a reply. “Have you seen what happens to Winterfell?”

Melisandre chuckled, her voice dropping seductively. “The wolves will come again,” she whispered, her eyes fixed on Sansa. “I’ve made sure of that now.”

A sudden heat gripped Sansa, spreading across her face and down her neck. Her fingers scrambled against the front of her dress as her chest heaved, the material suddenly feeling too tight around her.

“I…what is…” she gasped as her hands grasped her hair, her head tipping back submissively with the movement. Her back arched against the chair, her legs parting slightly beneath her skirts and only making Sansa’s face heat further. “It’s so warm!” she moaned, clutching the desk as she began to pant.

“Then take your dress off,” Melisandre urged seductively, her hands suddenly around Sansa’s waist. “Shall I help you?”

Sansa shook her head, her thoughts becoming fuzzy as she tried to grasp onto reality. But the woman’s breath was against her ear, her hands traveling slowly up her side and it felt so good just to be touched and held and…

“Oh,” Sansa breathed as a strange swooping sensation erupted in her stomach and shot down between her legs, making her squirm. “I…I feel strange.”

“You’re the eldest true born child of Ned Stark,” Melisandre whispered, ignoring Sansa’s outburst. Her fingers tugged at the laces at the back of Sansa’s dress slowly, as if savouring a delightful parcel she was opening. “The Starks die with you.”

She trailed her fingers across the milky white skin that was exposed as she pushed the dress down Sansa’s arms, her hands skimming around the front until they cupped her breasts. Sansa gasped, her body arching instantly into the touch, squirming as Melisandre pinched her nipples.

“Or they can live on through you.” She cupped Sansa’s breasts in her hands, her thumbs stroking her erect nipples. “Wouldn’t you like some wolf pups, Sansa?”

“I…I’m not wed,” Sansa moaned, her hand coming up to grasp Melisandre’s. “I can’t…”

“Only a good man will do,” Melisandre continued, though she had stopped playing with Sansa’s breasts now and Sansa dropped her hand away again, lured into a false sense of security. “A good, strong man who will father strong pups. Nobody else would be worthy enough to pluck the Rose of Winterfell, would they?”

Sansa shook her head, though whether in response to Melisandre’s words or the drugs, Melisandre couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter anyway. She had given Sansa and Jon the drugs needed to get them in bed, to fulfil the vision of the Starks returned to Winterfell in all their glory. True, she found it odd that a brother and sister would be chosen, but she supposed, if it were truly necessary for the Starks to return, there was little choice in the matter.

As if her thoughts had summoned him, the door opened so fast it slammed against the wall. Sansa squeaked, a flush returning to her face and spreading down her neck and across her exposed breasts. Jon stood in the doorway, his chest heaving as though he had ran there and his eyes were fixed on Sansa’s exposed chest.

“Lord Snow,” Melisandre purred, finally stepping away from Sansa and rising to her feet. “Your Lady awaits.”

“What have you done?” Jon growled, although he couldn’t tear his eyes away from his sister’s breasts.

“What needed to be done,” the woman replied simply, leaning past him to push the door shut. In the silence, the click was deafening.

Sansa stood abruptly, the loosening of her dress causing it to fall to her hips and Jon’s eyes followed the path.

“No,” Jon moaned, stepping back, his hand blindly reaching behind him to find the handle of the door. Melisandre intercepted, standing in front of it.

“She’s pretty, your sister,” she murmured, placing a hand on his shoulder. “And very responsive.”

Jon groaned, his body tensing in a last ditch effort to resist. But as Melisandre reached around and trailed her hands up over his jerkin to the ties, she could feel the fight leaving him as the drugs started to cloud his brain.

For Sansa, it had already taken hold, making her shove her dress to her feet and stalk towards him. Melisandre chuckled at the fact the girl still had her riding boots on.

“Come here,” she said gently, grasping Sansa’s hands and leading her to the bed. Sansa’s spare hand reached out for Jon with a pathetic whine. Mel cupped her cheek soothingly. “He’ll be with you soon enough.”

She tugged Sansa’s boots off and the her stockings before she glanced back at Jon expectantly.

“I…can’t…I…”

She remembered he resisted her before, when others had failed. It seemed to be harder for the drug to truly take hold of him and make him mad with lust as it had done for Sansa.

But even without drugs, Jon was a man and Melisandre knew that the combination of his sex and the drugs would be his undoing. Maintaining eye contact, she pressed a hand against Sansa’s thigh and pushed her legs apart.

“Show Jon that you want him Sansa,” she encouraged, pressing the girl’s foot to the floor and holding her open. Sansa moaned, her hips bucking up invitingly, her head lifting to peer at Jon over her breasts.

But Jon’s eyes were fixed between her thighs, round and black with lust, his lips parted as his tongue unconsciously swiped across them.

“You could hold a son of your own blood in your arms,” Melisandre urged, watching the way his shoulders trembled with the last of his resolve.  “A Ned, perhaps? Or a Robb? Maybe both.”

In a blur of black, Jon was there beside her, kneeling before Sansa like a priest at the alter. Melisandre moved back out of the way as Jon’s hands trailed up Sansa’s legs and settled on her thighs, gently pressing at them to keep them apart.

Standing, she watched appreciatively as Jon started to lick at the prize between Sansa’s legs. Sansa cried out, her hands scrambling against the sheets as he experimented, figuring out what she liked most.

She turned back to her tray, grabbing another clean cup from the pile as Jon moaned like a man starved finally being given food and Sansa grunted and panted in frantic pleasure. It was all but done now, she knew. As soon as Jon had had his fill, once he was satisfied Sansa was sated, he would take her as his body was demanding of him. Now, she only had to make sure that Sansa would conceive, with the help of the new tea.

Perching herself on the table, she watched as Sansa’s legs clamped around Jon’s head, her hands flying down into his hair as she ground her hips up against his mouth. Jon groaned, his fingers white with how hard he grasped her thighs, the soft slurps telling her that he was still going.

“I need you,” Sansa moaned out, all but fucking his face as he continued to kiss her folds. Jon groaned, finally moving away from her to reveal glistening lips and beard. Sansa mewled, pushing her legs up in invitation.

“She’s a maid remember,” Melisandre said gently.

In truth, the drug would make the pain non existent, there wasn’t really a worry about the awkwardness. But she intended for this to be remembered between them, for Sansa to be aware of Jon’s kindness and understanding. Then, it may be easier to get them into bed again when the time came for more children without the need for drugs.

Sansa sighed and moaned as Jon pushed a finger inside of her, her legs spreading further to aid him. Jon kissed her exposed stomach, lips lingering below her belly button as if already imaging kissing his unborn child there.

Melisandre picked up the kettle and returned it to its place above the fire, prepared to make the new tea for Sansa to drink once the deed had been done. Glancing back at the bed, she could see that Jon had two fingers inside of Sansa now, his thumb rubbing against her clit in maddeningly slow circles.

Sansa’s eyelids fluttered, her lips parting with every harsh breath as she pushed herself down on Jon’s probing fingers, her entire face alight with a enchanting glow. And then her lips curved into a dazed smile, her breaths turning into frantic whines as her hips rocked and rocked and rocked.

“Take her Jon Snow,” Melisandre pressed, moving back behind him, sliding her hands under his armpits to guide him up. She reached for his breeches, tugging the laces harshly as Jon’s gaze roamed over Sansa’s spread form appreciatively.

She made a beautiful sight, Melisandre had to admit. Her red hair spread across the pillow and her skin flushed a virgin pink, her arms and legs spread out, offering her body up to her mate. And Jon clearly was going to accept that invitation, she thought gleefully, if the way his already hard cock bobbed in interest once freed was anything to go by.

“Only you are worthy of fathering her children,” she whispered against the shell of his ear, her hand grasping his cock and stroking a couple of times, just to make sure, just to get him desperate enough to spill inside of Sansa in a frantic haze of lust.

Jon batted her hand away with a growl, his eyes only for Sansa and Melisandre backed off instantly. She watched Jon tug his shoes off, but bit back a chuckle as he left the socks on, just so he could climb onto the bed and between Sansa’s spread thighs.

She watched the muscles of his ass clench as he pushed forward, into the sweet heat of Sansa’s cunt. Sansa’s hands flew to his shoulders, her nails digging little half-moons into the skin. For all Tormund’s teasing, Jon wasn’t small. Melisandre wondered if it was all the drug that made Sansa groan in satisfaction or if she truly liked the feel of Jon’s cock inside of her. Perhaps it was both, she mused before going to collect the kettle.

Behind her, the bed was creaking softly with their movements, Jon’s soft growls and grunts and Sansa’s answering gasps filling the air. When she glanced over to them as she moved back to the table, Jon’s lips were closed around an erect nipple, his eyes closed as he suckled blissfully, his hips continuing to roll in a steady rhythm. Sansa’s head tilted back, her fingers buried in Jon’s hair, keeping her trapped at her breasts as her own hips rolled up to meet him with every thrust.

“Jon!” Sansa mewled suddenly, her eyes opening wide, near black with her pleasure. “Oh, Jon. _Please_!”

Jon reached down, hiking her leg up further around his waist, his movements never stopping. His other hand reached between them, the arch of Sansa’s back telling Melisandre that he was stroking her clit again.

She hastily poured the water and added the necessary herbs, stirring the tea as Sansa’s cries became louder and the bed started to scrape against the stone with the desperate force of Jon’s thrusts. She turned with the cup in hand just as Sansa’s body tensed and clamped around Jon, and Jon moaned pitifully, his hips jerking erratically a few times before his back arched and he tensed, filling Sansa with his seed.

“Drink this,” Melisandre said, thrusting the cup under Sansa’s nose. Exhausted and thirsty, Sansa took it gratefully, gulping it down in one go as Jon panted against her neck. Melisandre took the cup away and placed it back on the table.

Jon was already stirring, moving away from his sister’s sated body and rolling onto his back. Melisandre smoothed her skirts and spared the exhausted couple a smile.

“I shall leave you two to yourselves,” she said simply, moving towards the door.

The drugs would last at least a few more hours, perhaps even until morning. In the heat of lust, she knew the pair would couple at least twice more but they no longer needed her there to guide them. Sansa was already nuzzling against Jon’s neck, her leg thrown over his and she wouldn’t be surprised if the girl would end up in Jon’s lap and riding him at any moment.

Even if she didn’t understand how it had come to be, she had done what had been asked of her by the Lord of Light. She had made sure that the wolves would come again, as had been asked of her.


End file.
